


Familiar Problems

by BeniMaiko



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Danny, BAMF Isaac, BAMF Stiles, BAMF!Stiles, Helpful Peter, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Mates, Witch!Stiles, lumberjack!scott, pyromaniac!lydia, sharpshooter!danny, sterek, witch's familiar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeniMaiko/pseuds/BeniMaiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles thinks he needs a familiar to be a stronger witch. He's wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Familiar Problems

The smell of fresh paint overwhelms Scott’s nose as he stands in the freshly renovated living room of the Hale house. Even with every window open to the warm autumn air, the fumes from paint, varnish, and caulk fill the rebuilt home.

Scott has spent most of the day there in addition to the whole summer working with the pack on the massive construction project. He is ready to go home for the day, but first he needs to support his pack member.  A very worried Isaac stands next to him wringing his hands and pleading with Derek.

“Come on, man. Stiles has been alone out there for two nights already. What if something has happened to him?” Isaac’s voice trails off into a soft whimper. The protective Beta is usually one of the first to express concerns for his human pack mate.

Derek’s eyebrows are furrowed into a scowl and his arms are crossed across his broad chest. He shakes his head and responds to the worried boys in front of him. “Stiles told us to leave him alone. He made it very clear that this was something we couldn’t help him with.”

It’s not as if Derek wasn’t worried about Stiles, but he knew this was something the younger man felt very strongly about. The pack swarming in and treating him like a helpless child would only hurt Stiles’ efforts to prove himself to the pack. It would also piss him off, royally, and an angry Stiles was something Derek would rather avoid.

Even though he knew Derek was right, Scott tried once again to convince his co-alpha to check on Stiles. After all, Stiles really belonged to his half of the pack, not Derek’s.

“Derek, he could be in trouble. Deaton said that some of the rituals Stiles researched were very dangerous. You know how Stiles can be about his own safety!” Scott’s quiet growl at the end of his argument could be heard clearly by the other two werewolves.

Derek had some sympathy for Stiles’ best friend. He reached out and squeezed Scott’s shoulder. “Stiles’ safety is exactly why we need to leave him alone. Even Deaton said that whatever Stiles is doing is for his own good. He needs to be able to protect himself from other magic users.”

Derek could see Isaac’s wince as they all remembered how close they had come to losing Stiles just a few, short weeks ago.

_Stiles had missed several days of work and had stopped returning the pack’s phone calls before Derek decided to crawl through the young man’s window to check on him. Scott had said that Stiles was home with the flu, but Derek had not been prepared for the sight of Stiles burittoed in his blankets, looking paler than usual. Stiles’ skin was clammy and his heartbeat was weak and thready._

_Derek’s wolf was almost feral in its need to help the human. Soft whines had escaped the werewolf’s throat as he franticly pawed and snuffled at the unconscious young man. Then he had detected the faint scent of something that didn’t belong, of stranger, of magic._

_Derek traced the faint smell of magic to a hex bag stuffed under Stiles’ mattress and had quickly called Deaton. After destroying the hex bag in salt water, Deaton informed Stiles and Derek that a sorceress had been draining the untrained witch of his magic._

If Derek had not decided to check on the boy while the sheriff was working a night shift, there was a very good chance that Stiles would not have survived the night. Fortunately, Stiles had recovered quickly.  Deaton had stepped up his training and informed the boy that he needed a familiar.

At first, Stiles had been excited at the prospect of gaining a magical ally to help him use his powers, but weeks had passed with no results. Stiles had decided to perform some risky rituals in the hope of successfully calling his familiar.

Derek could understand how worried his pack mates were about Stiles. The desire to track Stiles’ scent through the preserve and find the boy was almost overwhelming to Derek’s wolf. He could tell exactly which direction he would need to run to find Stiles. When the woods were quiet and the moon was high, Derek could hear Stiles’ steady heartbeat from miles away.

“Go home. I’m sure he will have completed whatever he is doing by morning. I’ll call you when he shows up.” Derek pushed the boys to his front door and followed them out onto his porch. The sun would be setting soon, and Derek planned to spend the evening relaxing on his porch swing, while his house aired out, and listening to the forest.

Derek was still reclining on the swing bench several hour later. Without his conscious decision, he had been listening to the steady beat of Stiles’ heart. The human may be Scott’s second in command, but he was Derek’s friend.

He certainly had not started that way, but Stiles had a way of growing on you. Like a fungus, Derek thought. In many ways, Stiles was not very different from the sixteen year old that Derek had met three years before, but he had matured and settled into young adulthood.

At almost twenty years of age, he was mostly grown into the man Derek knew he could be. He sometimes blurted out the most inappropriate things in front of his pack, but he had tight control of himself during confrontations with hunters and supernatural beings. His negotiating skills had also been invaluable with the integration of the two local packs.

Stiles was an indispensable part of the Hale-McCall pack. That was why he needed to be able to protect himself. Stiles had explained that having a familiar was not just traditional for witches, but necessary for their full development. As a druid, Deaton didn’t have a familiar, but he thought Stiles should have one.

Stiles would not be able to reach his full abilities without a familiar. He had seemed kind of sad as he told Derek that he didn’t have the potential to be a really powerful witch, but he wanted to be the best he could be. The werewolf had faith that Stiles underestimated his own abilities just as the human failed to realize how important he was to the pack.

Derek’s musings often turned to Stiles when he was alone. He worried about all the members of his pack, but mostly about Stiles. The young man often seemed lonely. That was, perhaps, the thing that seemed to draw him to the human.

Their rag-tag pack was not a traditional one. It was not solely composed of members of an extended family. The Hale-McCall pack members each had family and lives _outside_ of their lives as werewolves. The born wolves may not understand it fully, but they accepted that the bitten wolves and human members of the pack had important attachments to the rest of the world.

Instead of rejecting the external bonds that many in the pack cherished, Derek had learned to appreciate the strength that those connections gave to the pack. They may not live in each other’s pockets, but the Hale-McCall pack became a cohesive and unstoppable unit when they needed to.

Most of the pack had paired off into couples over the years. Scott and Allison were finally mated. Their relationship brought strength and stability to the pack, but their families were human.  

Cora and Isaac had begun dating and Derek hoped it worked out for them. It was not unusual for werewolves who were in burgeoning relationships to isolate themselves in order to bond, and the young lovers had done just that.

The strangest relationship had to be the one between Peter and Lydia. Derek wasn’t really sure what to make of them and didn’t want to pry.

The only single people in the pack were Danny, Stiles, and Derek himself. The two young men were both human and had family ties that pulled them away from pack, away from Derek. He didn’t begrudge them their freedom, but it meant that Derek was often by himself in the house he was building for the pack.

Sometimes Derek thought it would be nice to have someone to sit with on quiet nights like this, but he was used to being alone. Because he wasn’t currently in a relationship, and the sheriff worked odd hours, Stiles often spent weekends hanging with Derek, but not this one. This weekend he was on his ‘epic vision quest thingy.’

Derek just sat and swung slowly on his porch swing listening to Stiles’ heartbeat. It took him several minutes to realize that the quiet thud, thud, thud had slowed down and become almost too faint for Derek to hear.

In a panic, Derek transformed into his wolf-like alpha form and took off racing through the preserve. He was a black blur through the trees and reached Stiles’ camp in minutes.

TW~

Stiles had been spending more and more time on his attempts to call his familiar. He had started with Deaton’s vague ‘think about what you need, not what you want.’ Stiles had composed a list of traits that he needed in a familiar. Loyalty, bravery, and strength were at the top of his list.

Stiles had tried not to picture a specific animal. He honestly didn’t care if his familiar was a traditional cat or owl. He would be happy with a dog or a fox, or even a horse. Although, a horse would be difficult to explain to his dad. At this point, Stiles would be ecstatic for any animal to answer his call, even a rat or a snake. (Please not a snake. Please not a snake.)

When thinking about what he needed bore no results, Stile had moved on to dream walking. He had spent night after night strolling the astral plane; making himself available to any potential familiars. He had several dreams of soft, black fur, but no animal had followed him home. With his luck, his familiar was a skunk.

When dream walking failed to connect him with his familiar, Stiles became desperate. Deaton had been unable _or unwilling_ to provide more hands on means of bonding with a familiar. He just kept advising Stiles to have patience.

It infuriated Stiles. Deaton coached patience in the same lessons that he stressed how much danger Stiles was in. He bemoaned Stiles’ lack of training and talent, but refused to teach Stiles more than the most basic of spells until he had a familiar.

Stiles decided to take matters into his own hands and had researched until he came across a bonding ritual that he could modify to his needs. Research and improvisation were two of Stiles’ strengths. Once he had combined the ritual with a spell for summoning a spirit guide, Stiles took his plans to Deaton for review.

_Deaton read over Stiles’ notes and examined his detailed notes on the ritual he planned to perform. “This should work, but it could be very dangerous, Stiles. I still think it is important for you to have a familiar, but you should have patience. It can take time for the right animal to heed your call.”_

_Stiles knew he should be patient, but he was afraid that his time was running out. Derek and Deaton had been unable to find the sorceress that had attempted to drain his power and life away. She was still out there somewhere and could come after Stiles again at any moment._

_Without a familiar, Stiles was vulnerable. A familiar grounded a magic user and made him stronger; more powerful. It would also be able to detect magic and act as a buffer to magical attack. As a spark, Stiles would have an empathic bond with his familiar. If he had been a stronger magic user, like a witch or druid, Stiles would attract a strong familiar and have an almost telepathic bond._

_Interrupting the boy’s musings, Deaton continued, “You should not try to force a familiar bond. The familiar chooses, Stiles. You cannot make an animal to respond to you.”_

_Stiles nodded his head. “I know, Deaton. That is why I modified the rituals to remove any hint of coercion from them. All of the danger in my plan falls on me. Any sacrifices I make will be to ask for a connection, not to control the animal that responds.”_

_Deaton still looked worried. “Please, Stiles. Do the fasting and meditation. I think they will be successful in calling your familiar, but if they don’t…. don’t do the bloodletting. I know you are 18 now, and can decide for yourself, but that part of the ritual is dangerous. If your familiar fails to accept you, you could die.”_

_Stiles smirked at Deaton and responded, “Don’t worry, that is really only in my plan as a last resort. It won’t come to that!”_

 

As it turns out, Stiles’ shitty luck was holding fast. After two days and nights of fasting and meditating in the farthest reaches of the preserve, Stiles had decided to perform the risky, bloodletting ritual. Stiles hoped that his spirit animal was just stubborn and wanted proof that Stiles was worthy of having him as a familiar. If the animal just wasn’t interested in Stiles, his life would soon be at risk.

A silver athame and a small wooden bowl were the only requirements for the ritual. The blade gleamed in the moonlight as Stiles prepared himself. He spread a thick wool blanket over the leaves that littered the forest floor. After removing all of his clothing and sitting in the middle of the blanket, Stiles made a shallow slice across the soft, inner flesh below his elbow.

Blood ran down his arm and dripped slowly into the small wooden bowl that rested on the blanket under his clenched fist. The blood joined the previously collected tears and semen. The trio of life fluids were particularly powerful, magical ingredients.

As the bowl filled, Stiles began to use the mixture to draw arcane symbols across his body. Stiles pushed the idea that he was painting himself with his own tears, blood, and cum out of his mind. He focused entirely on the symbols.

He had researched some of the runes he was applying. Loyalty, bravery, strength, and intelligence each had symbols that were painted around Stiles’ heart.

Other symbols were applied by instinct. Friendship and love joined the other runes. Stiles used his spark to guide his hand in patterns across his skin. A triskelion was placed on Stiles’ neck without his conscious control. Stiles was not aware of the passage of time. He did not notice when he stopped painting his body in his own fluids. He never realized that he had fallen backwards onto the blanket or that his life was slowly dripping away from him in a spreading pool of blood.

Derek skidded into the clearing on his padded wolf feet. The smell of Stiles’ blood filled the forest with its coppery scent. The wolf in Derek howled its fear and anger to the moon. He crouched next to the injured boy and sniffed at his neck and face. The whiskers on his muzzle tickled down Stiles’ chest and belly as the werewolf sniffed and licked.

Stiles’ eyes were open but glazed. He was clearly in shock. He slowly lifted his injured arm and flapped it at the enormous black wolf that seemed to be taking a personal interest in his tenderest bits.

“Hey there, wolfy-wolf. What are you doing here? There are no wolves in California.” Stiles’ voice was slurred and slow. Derek realized that Stiles didn’t recognize him in his alpha-form.

Stiles flailed at the wolf with his injured arm, causing Derek to step in the small wooden bowl. The fluids spilled across the blanket and coated Derek’s forepaw. As the young man continued to knock the wolf about the head with his arm, Derek pressed his wet paw against the human’s chest, over his heart, in an attempt to hold him down.

Before Stiles could react and pull his arm away, Derek licked the blood from his arm and swept his tongue across his open wound. The wolf’s muzzle was pressed against the boy’s arm, so he did not see when Stiles’ eyes turned molten bronze. By the time Derek had finished cleaning the blood from the now healing boy, his eyes had returned to normal.

As Stiles slipped into unconsciousness, Derek changed from his alpha-form into his two-legged one. He carefully wrapped the boy in his blanket and carried him through the forest to the Hale house. Although it was still slower than normal, Stiles heartbeat was stronger than it had been in the clearing. Derek believed that the younger man was recovering on his own from his ordeal in the woods.

Derek gently placed Stiles on top of the bed in the master suite. He retrieved his cell phone from the bedside table and placed a call to Isaac. After the beta agreed to fetch Stiles’ belongings and clean up the clearing in the woods, Derek began to take care of the unconscious witch.  He started by using a warm washcloth to wipe most of the blood from the naked youth.

Some of the painted on symbols came off with a single swipe of the cloth, while others required several gentle rubs. Before long, most of the blood had been cleaned up. Derek could not bring himself to remove his family’s symbol from the human’s throat, and he somehow missed the perfect wolf’s paw print on Stiles’ chest.

A short trip to his closet provided sleep pants for Stiles to wear and a quilt that Derek used to cover the unconscious young man. He knew that the sheriff wasn’t expecting Stiles home until late the following afternoon, so it would be fine for him to recover at Derek’s. Because he could hear Stiles’ heartbeat from anywhere in the house, Derek decided to go to the living room to make a call to Deaton.

The enigmatic veterinarian answered his phone on the third ring.

“Mr. Hale. I hope everything is well with you on this fine evening.”

Derek took a steadying breath and did his best to explain the ‘Stiles’ situation to the other man.

“Something went wrong with your apprentice’s ritual, Deaton. He is sleeping it off at my house, now, but he almost bled to death in my woods.” Derek was almost growling. “What the hell kind of half-baked hoo-doo are you teaching him? He could have killed himself!”

A brief silence stretched between the two men before Deaton finally said, “Are you saying that you completed the ritual, Derek?” A note of surprise had crept into the vet’s voice.

“I didn’t have anything to do with his stupid ritual. He was finished with whatever he was doing and almost unconscious from blood loss before I got there.” Derek huffed in irritation.

Deaton hummed a curious, “Mmm Hmm. So, his wound had stopped bleeding by the time you got there?” he asked.

The werewolf tried to remember the slice on Stiles’ arm. “Almost, it stopped bleeding before I had him wrapped in his blanket to carry through the woods, though. By the time we were home, it had healed.”

“Ah, well. That is interesting.” Deaton’s voice sounded choked.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Deaton. Why was Stiles trying to off himself in my territory?” Derek demanded.

Deaton sighed before responding. “He wasn’t trying to hurt himself. I would suggest asking Stiles about what happened when he wakes up. Goodnight Mr. Hale.”

Derek didn’t have time to respond before Deaton had disconnected their call. Sometimes he really hated the Druid. He shoved his fingers through his hair in frustration and stretched out on his sofa to wait for Stiles to wake up.

Unfortunately, the paint fumes soon drove him back upstairs to the master suite. It had been one of the first rooms completed and now smelled only of Derek. As he entered the room, Derek had to revise that information. The room now had the distinct odor of _Stiles_ to it.

The younger man was deeply asleep but curled tightly on himself as if cold. Worried about the human’s body temperature dropping due to shock, Derek slipped onto the bed and draped himself behind Stiles, burying his nose in the human’s hair.

If Derek slept more soundly than usual, it was probably due to racing around the woods, saving the infuriating boy.

When the younger man woke the next morning, he clammed up before Derek had a chance to get more than a disappointed sounding, “I guess it didn’t work” as explanation from the human.

Derek warned him not to try killing himself on Hale territory _ever again_ , and drove him home. Neither of them mentioned how they had awoken with their limbs twined together and sharing the same pillow. Stiles was just happy that he hadn’t been humping Derek’s leg.

 

Two weeks after Stiles’ ‘near death’ experience left Derek no closer to answers. Despite losing a ridiculous amount of blood during his failed magic ritual, Stiles seemed no worse for wear as he relaxed with the pack in preparation for that night’s full moon. As he watched Stiles rough-housing with Isaac, Derek noticed how light on his feet the human was. All of the training that Stiles put in with the pack really seemed to be paying off.

The humans in the pack were waiting to spend an evening at the Hale house watching T.V. and eating popcorn while the wolves ran in the preserve. Allison and Lydia were sitting on either side of Danny on the large porch swing, watching Stiles as he managed to flip Isaac over one shoulder and onto the ground.

Isaac laughed and looked like he was preparing to launch himself at Stiles again when Scott jumped between his two friends. He turned his back on Stiles in order to face Isaac.

“Easy, man. You don’t want to hurt Stiles just because you’re a little moon crazy.”

Stiles’ hands clenched into fists at Scott’s back. If anything infuriated the young witch, it was being treated like his humanity was a weakness. He growled at his best friend, “What the fuck, man. I was holding my own.”

Scott whirled around looking shocked. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, dude. It’s the full moon. You should be up at the house with the other humans.”

Derek could feel the rage pouring off of Stiles at Scott’s words. In the past, Derek might have agreed with Scott, but he could not control the righteous indignation that boiled through him on Stiles’ behalf. Almost before realizing he had moved, Derek was by Stiles’ side confronting Scott.

“Back off, Scott.” Derek snarled, eyes flashing red.

Tempers always flew a little faster and higher on full moon nights so it was no surprise when Scott felt challenged by Derek’s sudden aggressiveness. His eyes flashed red in return as he spit out, “Stiles is my pack, Derek. Fuck off.”

Claws and fur burst from Derek as he growled around lengthening fangs at Scott. He knew that Stiles had a closer pack bond with Scott, but the overwhelming wave of possessiveness that seemed to catch the older Alpha off guard could not be denied. “Mine!” he roared.

Scott shifted immediately into his alpha form and leapt at Derek. He looked like a large timber wolf with mostly brown fur and flashing red eyes. His fangs were as long as fingers and his claws could shred metal, but Stiles did not hesitate to step between Scott and his goal of attacking Derek.

Stiles crouched and vaulted over Scott’s back as he tried to get past him. No claws appeared on the human’s hands, but magic arced between his fingertips leaving long bloody trails down Scott’s flanks. The acrid stench of burnt fur filled the clearing.

A strangled growl rose from Scott’s throat as he whirled on Stiles. The pull of the moon and pain from his slowly healing wounds caused Scott to bare his fangs and snarl at the human.

At the perceived threat to Stiles, Derek shifted into his Alpha form.

Allison’s gasp could be heard from the porch as all hell broke loose. Derek had always had the alpha form of a sleek, black wolf, but things had clearly changed. This new form was as tall at the shoulder as Stiles’ chest.

He easily weighed three hundred pounds and had massive dire-wolf fangs. They were at least six inches long and looked as sharp as daggers. The claws on Derek’s enormous paws were serrated like knives. The fur on Derek’s hackles was raised as he snarled at the perceived threat to Stiles.

Most disturbing was the change to Derek’s eyes. They still glowed red, but with a flaring bronze pupils. The colors matched the molten bronze with swirling honey and red flecks that Stiles’ eyes were brightly shining.

Stiles was standing beside Derek in a half crouch, balanced on the balls of his feet. His long fingers were arched into claws and glowing, amber sparks fell from his fingertips like embers from a fire. The visible magic swirled around Stiles’ feet and legs. He opened his mouth and hoarsely hissed at Scott who cringed from his friend.

At the sudden display of strength and ferocity, the wolves in the pack submitted immediately.

Cora whined and crouched at Peter’s feet. Peter tilted his head back and to the side, baring his throat. Isaac cowered on the ground behind Scott, and Scott was unable to hold his alpha form.

As Scott bared his throat in submission, an eerie calm fell over the group. Stiles took a deep breath and the color fell from his eyes. A few whiskey colored sparkles flashed through their usual honey depths, but his magic receded. He reached out to lay his hand on Derek’s softly furred shoulder.

“So that happened.” Stiles gasped as his knees turned to jelly.

The comment seemed to break whatever was holding Derek in his alpha form. He shifted slowly to his beta form and then to full human. Fortunately, he had hands when Stiles started to collapse beside him.  Derek caught the younger man and eased him to the ground.

Stiles’ heartbeat was rabbit fast in his chest as he curled up around himself in a ball. He tried to gasp for air but felt like he was drowning. The precipitous drop of endorphins and adrenaline after a powerful rush of magic combined with a near escape from a werewolf attack was leaving Stiles a shaky wreck.

Derek initially crouched beside Stiles but had to sink to his knees and finally laid down on his side next to the human.

He could feel Stiles’ panic. It washed over him and through him. He could feel his own heartbeat and breathing accelerate in response to Stiles’, but he was pulling the fear from the young man like he could pull pain.

Derek leeched the panic and confusion from Stiles until the younger man was breathing normally.

The sudden realization that Derek’s naked body was curled around him was really not helping Stiles calm down. “Somebody find Derek some pants.” Stiles croaked and then burst into hysterical laughter.

Derek discovered that his own clothes were in shreds on the ground around them. They must have burst from him during his transformation. He could not find it in himself to be embarrassed by his nudity. He was much more concerned with Stiles’ well-being.

Danny returned from the house with sweatpants and a tee shirt for Derek. After putting the clothes on, Derek reached down to help Stiles up from where he was still sitting on the ground. He decided that it was past time for Stiles to give him some answers.

“What just happened, Stiles?” he asked in as calm a voice as he could manage.

Stiles ran a hand over his close cropped hair and shrugged. “I thought I was going to have a panic attack, but I guess not.” He answered.

“Don’t play dumb. What happened to us? You… and… I. That was… What the FUCK was that, Stiles?” Derek did not want to ask out loud about Stiles going feral like a newly turned wolf on its first full moon.

Stiles shook his head. “I don’t really know, Derek. I think we need to talk to Deaton.”

Lydia appeared at Cora’s elbow. “I guess it’s a good thing I just called him. He said to meet him at his clinic.”

 

The entire pack had wanted to go to Deaton’s, but the group had been limited by Derek to Stiles and himself plus Lydia. The Alpha wolf trusted that the Banshee would make a reliable witness.

Scott had been left in charge at the house so that the rest of the wolves could have a good full moon run.

Deaton met the small group at the clinic and ushered them into his office. After sitting in his chair, he asked, “Who wants to tell me what happened?”

Lydia glared at the confused looking pair before answering. “Don’t everyone talk at once.” 

She strode to the sofa along the back wall and sat down before continuing in an authoritative voice. “I was up on the porch and really couldn’t hear what was being said, but I had a good view of the show.” Lydia smirked, but it looked a little shaky to Stiles.

“Stiles and Isaac were playing and Scott got between them. Stiles looked like he wanted to throttle Scott and Derek stomped over to stand beside him.” Lydia ignored Derek’s annoyed huff at her description. She went on, “Scott and Derek exchanged words until Scott wolfed out and tried to attack Derek. Stiles made himself the target of Scott’s attention and Derek wolfed out.”

Lydia looked at Deaton. “By wolfed out, I mean he turned into the largest, scariest, fanged monster of a wolf I have ever seen or could imagine. I thought Scott was going to piss himself in fear.”

Derek thought it was interesting that she had not mentioned Stiles’ transformation to the Druid.

Deaton nodded. “OK. Thank you Ms. Martin. That was very informative.” He turned to Derek and said, “Well, it seems like you have chosen. Congratulations.”

The young werewolf scowled at the veterinarian. “What do you mean? I haven’t chosen anything.”

The vet looked between Stiles and Derek. “Didn’t Stiles explain it to you? The familiar chooses. That’s how it works.”

Stiles heaved a gasp of air. “Oh, God.” His mouth gaped open and the color drained from his face as he looked at Derek. “I didn’t know, Derek. I swear. I though it hadn’t worked. I thought I had failed, again.”

Derek was getting irritated by the lack of _explanations_. “Somebody give me answers. What are you two talking about?”

Deaton tried to be patient. “Stiles performed a ritual to call for a familiar. You answered the call. Or, your wolf did, I don’t know for sure. He asked; you answered. It’s pretty simple really.”

Comprehension washed over the werewolf. Stiles’ ritual had gone incredibly wrong. The young witch had, once again, failed in his attempts to lure a familiar and the magic had somehow latched onto _him_ as a substitute.

Derek’s entire body was clenched in anger.

His claws were digging into the palms of his hands causing drops of blood to drip onto the lino floor. “Are you saying Stiles has made me his _pet_? I’m not a fucking _dog_ , Deaton.”

Stiles had sunk down next to Lydia on the sofa. He dropped his head into his hands and moaned, “I’m sorry, Derek. I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what happened. I must have done something wrong in the ritual.” He lifted his eyes to gaze at the older man. “I’ll fix it. I swear. Whatever it takes, I’ll fix it.”

Deaton looked at the youth with sad eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Stiles. A witch can only call for a familiar. You asked, but he had to accept. He must have claimed you, somehow.”

Derek immediately remembered the few times a mate had been claimed in his parent’s pack and stammered, “No. No! I didn’t _claim_ him. He’s a teenager for God’s sake,” as a scarlet blush spread across his face.

Stiles frowned. “Hey, I’m almost twenty.” His voice sounded hurt. He didn’t know what his age had to do with Derek being his familiar, anyway.

The werewolf scowled at the younger man. Did he want to be Derek’s mate? Did he understand what it would mean to be claimed by an Alpha?

Just because it had felt so _right_ for Stiles to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, facing a common enemy, did not mean that the young human was prepared to bind his life to Derek’s.

Lydia interrupted, “Derek, I couldn’t hear much from the porch, but I did hear you yell ‘mine’ at Scott. That sounded like a claim to me.” The girl continued “It was right after that you went all _GRRRRRR_.” She mimed claws swiping through the air.

Derek glared at Stiles. He’d only gone all _grrrr_ to protect Stiles from Scott. Derek rubbed the heel of his hands against his eyes and sighed.

He thought about mentioning that there had been something weird going on before he has blurted out ‘mine’, but he wasn’t sure if that weirdness was magic related or just more of the complicated feelings he had been developing for Stiles.

He didn’t know how this shit always happened to him. “Just fix it Stiles. I’m nobody’s lap dog.”

After a few days of research, Stiles was confident that he could reverse his faulty ritual.

Stiles was once again in the preserve, preparing to perform a cobbled together ritual that _might_ be sort of dangerous. Not that he was telling Derek that. He told Derek that it was a perfectly safe negation of what he had done in the woods a month before.

This time, both men were naked on the blanket. “Sorry about the whole ’naked’ thing, dude. I’m not sure if it’s 100% necessary, but better safe than sorry.”

Derek continued to silently glare at the younger man. He wanted to make some comment about how he had nothing to hide and Stiles should be the one embarrassed, but it wouldn’t take werewolf senses for Stiles to hear the lie.

Stiles was no longer the scrawny kid he was when they first met and it was all the wolf could do to keep from embarrassing himself with his reaction to Stiles’ nudity.

 As a matter of fact, Stiles was as tall as Derek and just as broad in the shoulders. He may be a little less bulky than Derek, but his muscles were well defined and lithe. And… Derek needed to stop thinking about Stiles’ body since he was sitting naked in front of him.

“What are you doing? You said this would be quick.” Derek was impatient for this to be over.

“Right. Well, just sit there quietly. I’m starting now.” Stiles sat across the blanket from Derek and closed his eyes. He started taking slow, deep breaths. He tried to concentrate on the connection that he could feel running between himself and the werewolf.

He imagined the connection stretching thinner and thinner. He pictured it growing weaker and attempted to pull it loose from where he felt it connected over his heart. His heartbeat grew slower as he concentrated.

Stiles kept his eyes tightly closed as he worked. He could feel a cool breeze across the sweat that had appeared on his chest and back. He was growing tired and thought he could work longer if he could just lie down for a minute.

Stiles slumped sideways on the blanket and continued to try severing his bond with Derek. He pulled a few threads of the chord loose, and his heart beat slowed. He thinned a few fragile strands and his breathing grew shallow. He pulled on the tie in attempt to yank it free.

Stiles could not hear Derek yelling, “Stop! Stop, Stiles.” He gave another hard tug on the connection before slipping into unconsciousness.

It seemed like stiles was in a deep trance. Derek had been able to feel the connection between them getting weaker and had hoped that Stiles could break the bond. Then his heart rate and breathing had dropped dangerously low. An overwhelming pain zipped through the connection and Derek panicked. He could feel that whatever Stiles was doing was not what they had hoped.

The wolf was frantic in his need to protect Stiles from whatever had gone wrong. He didn’t like the damaged feel of their connection.

Derek pinned Stiles to the ground by his shoulders as the human started to convulse on the ground. Stiles’ eyes flew open and were glowing a bright bronze color.  Gold and copper flecks swirled around the irises and any white that had been in the eye glowed alpha red.

“Stiles.” Derek groaned.

Inky blackness closed in on Derek’s vision and he nearly collapsed on top of Stiles. He pushed himself to the side of the younger man and gasped for air as the bond reinstated itself.

Derek’s heartbeat was still synched to Stiles’. They breathed in tandem like two bodies sharing one nervous system. Derek could almost taste the guilt, uncertainty, and embarrassment rolling off the young human.

After several long minutes, Stiles moaned and lifted a hand to his head. “It didn’t work.” He stated simply.

“No shit, dumbass.” Derek quipped back. He was feeling a mixture of annoyance at Stiles for failing and relief that they were both still alive. He didn’t think he should let Stiles mess around with magic anymore.

“Dude, you can’t tell me not to do magic, anymore. I _am_ magic.” Stiles complained.

Derek jerked his head around to face Stiles. “I didn’t say that.”

Stiles scoffed, “I _heard_ you, Derek.”

The older man shook his head. If Stiles was hearing things, it was time to get him home.

“Yeah, take me home, Sourwolf. I would marry my bed right now.” Stiles groaned.

 _Fuck._ Derek thought. “Stiles, I didn’t say that out loud either.”

The young witch sighed. “We are so screwed.”

 

The only light on at Stiles’ house was the porch light that the Sherriff left on for Stiles when he worked night shift.

“Do you want to come in?” Stiles asked hesitantly.

Derek had given him a ride home from the magical debacle in the woods. Derek stared at his hands clenching the steering wheel before cutting off the car and putting his keys in his jacket pocket.

“Ok.” He responded with his typical terseness.

After making himself comfortable on the sofa, Derek waited for Stiles to stop fidgeting and twitching. Several long minutes passed before Stiles broke the silence.

“I’m sorry. I mean, I’m really, _really_ sorry.” Stiles gripped his leg above the knee in an effort to stop its bouncing.

Derek didn’t answer Stiles with words, but he leaned his head back on the sofa and tried to relax into the cushions.

“Seriously, dude. I don’t know how this happened. I’ve never even heard of a witch having a person as a familiar. I found one reference of a Chinese sorcerer who had a panda as his familiar, but that was the strangest thing I found.” Stiles’ voice caught in his throat and Derek could almost feel the tears building in the young man’s eyes.

Their bond was getting stronger the more time they spent together.

Stiles continued, “Well there was one guy with an octopus.” He gave an exaggerated shiver. “They did unspeakable things.”

Amusement rolled along the bond making Derek smile. He sat up and looked at Stiles. He searched the younger man’s face as if mysteries could be revealed. His wolf hated the sadness and remorse that thickly surrounded his friend.

“Well, I’m not exactly a person.” Derek smiled wanly at the human.

Stiles frowned and snipped, “Don’t be racist, dude. You are a person.” He didn’t want to be a werewolf, but he thought it kind of awesome that Derek was one. “What I meant was, no one has had a fully sentient being as a familiar.”

The young man leaned back in thought. His eyes were half closed as he tried to remember everything he had read.

“The type of animal the familiar is affects the type of bond that is formed, but it also changes _both_ members of the bond.”

Derek waited patiently while Stiles chewed on the side of his thumb.

Stiles shrugged and continued. “The animals all lived longer than they would have in the wild, but I don’t know how that would affect you. Do werewolves have regular, human lifespans?”

Derek looked away from the younger man before answering. “Betas usually live longer than regular humans. They don’t get diseases and injuries heal. I’ve heard of Betas being more than 150 years old in stable packs.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open in surprise before snapping shut with a click. “What about Alphas and Omegas?” He asked.

A heavy sigh escaped Derek’s lips. “Omegas are packless. Werewolves don’t usually live long without a pack. Alphas…” Derek hesitated before answering. “Alphas rarely die of old age, but when they do, they are usually close to 200 years old.”

Stiles looked stunned. “Holy shit, Derek. I’ve got to break the bond, dude.”

It was Derek’s turn to look surprised. “Why?” He could feel fear and guilt oozing through the bond in addition to the heavy stench of shame in the air.

A grimace contorted Stiles’ face as he answered. “The bond ties our lives together. That’s why the animals lived longer.” He shook his head and swiped at moist eyes. “But, if the witch dies, so does the familiar. I have just cut your life expectancy in half.” The young man burst into panicked tears.

“I don’t want you to try and break the bond again. Not, at least, until we can find out what happened in the first place and what the long term consequences are going to be.” Derek tried to use his most authoritative voice.

Stiles nodded his head, but his eyes slid to the side as he refused to make eye contact with Derek.

“I’m serious, Stiles. Come to the house tomorrow and let’s try to figure out how this thing works.” His wolf wanted to keep Stiles close, but Derek knew it was time for him to go home. “Come over early and I’ll feed you breakfast before we start.”

Stiles did make eye contact with Derek then, mostly in surprise. “Ok.” He replied and walked Derek to the door.

After a restless night spent tossing and turning, Stiles decided to get an early start to meet Derek.

Stiles’ stomach was still comfortably full of Eggs, bacon, and toast when he and Derek finally sat down across from each other in lawn chairs outside of the Hale house. An ancient, gnarled oak tree shaded the pair from the bright sun.

Stiles had spent most of the previous night thinking of ways to test the bond.

“I want to see how much information I can get from you through the bond.” He told Derek. “Close your eyes and relax.”

Derek leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes. As a wolf, his other senses gave him as much information about his surroundings as sight. He could smell Stiles’ scent drifting around the area. He smelled of soap and deodorant overlying cinnamon, vanilla, and wood. Derek loved the way Stiles smelled.

He could hear the human’s heartbeat. It was always a little faster than most people’s. As they sat, Stiles’ heartbeat slowed to match the easy pace of Derek’s.  The steady thump faded to the edge of Derek’s consciousness as he focused on the other sounds around him. Birds and small animals flitted and scurried through the woods around the house. A wind chime that Lydia had hung outside the kitchen door tinkled as a slight breeze ghosted across Derek’s skin.

Derek could sense his territory for miles around. He allowed that awareness to spread to each of his pack members.

Isaac and Cora were having a light hearted argument about her ratty bunny slippers that sensitive werewolf hearing could have heard even if her bedroom window had been shut. Derek could feel contentment wrapping around them.

Scott and Allison were a little harder to sense due to being an alpha and a human, but Derek knew they were still cuddled together, dozing in bed.

Peter and Lydia were… nope, nope, nope.

Stiles choked huff roused Derek from his reverie. He looked at the younger man and raised one eloquent eyebrow in question.

Stiles looked surprised and Derek could feel the excitement and happiness zipping from Stiles through their connection.

“I could totally feel something, Derek!” Stiles enthused. “At first I thought I was just really enjoying sitting still in the shade, here, but then I realized I have never been _happy_ to sit still. That was totally coming from you, dude.” Stiles grinned at the older man. “Then I could feel the pack. I could _feel_ how happy and relaxed they all are, but, eeeewwww, what is up with Lydia and Peter?!?”

Derek shook his head. “I don’t pry.” He deadpanned. Stiles was grinning from ear to ear and vibrating with energy.

Stiles crowed, “This is awesome!”

Even though he could feel Stiles happiness at the connection the bond provided, Derek could not help the frisson of worry that worked its way down his spine. His concept of what a familiar was to a witch was not something he wanted for himself.

The few witches he had met had more traditional familiars. One man had a Maine Coon Cat that must have weighed close to thirty pounds. It was more than a pet, but still served the witch. It had acted as a sort of magical battery, storing energy and acting as a surge protector for the witch.

Derek was the alpha. He was not subservient to anyone. It was possible that at some point in time, he would have an equal in his mate, but that was unlikely considering his track record. He was worried that this _thing_ with Stiles would put the pack in danger. He did not like the idea of Stiles being _in charge_.

Stiles settled back into his seat. “Let’s do it again Derek. I want to know what you can get from me.”

Derek closed his eyes again. This time he focused on the bond with Stiles. He could feel his heartbeat speeding up to match Stiles’. It was difficult to concentrate on their connection. He could still hear the animals and the wind chimes. Every faint woodland scent was distracting him from his task.

The sudden realization that his inability to concentrate was coming from the human with ADD made Derek pop his eyes open for a moment. Stiles’ eyes were open and he shrugged an apology to the werewolf. It was no wonder that Stiles was twitchy if that level of distractedness was what he lived with every day.

Derek tried to focus on Stiles breathing. He could feel the younger man’s gaze as he concentrated. He could feel… excitement, happiness, contentment. He could also feel worry. Worry for the sheriff, for the pack, for Derek.

The werewolf shifted in his chair, trying to shrug off Stiles’ worry. He swiped his palms down his denim clad thighs as if he could wipe the younger man’s worry away. It was then that he could feel… attraction? arousal?

Derek cracked one eye open to look at Stiles through his lashes. He deliberately pulled his right hand back up his thigh until his thumb was mere inches from his groin. The sense of arousal grew but Stiles still looked impassive, his heart rate unchanged.

While continuing to peek at Stiles, Derek lifted his left hand to his stomach and idly scratched below his navel. His tight, grey tank top rode up under his fingers, exposing a strip of belly and his treasure trail. Derek felt an immediate wave of lust through the connection for a moment before Stile jerked upright in his chair.

“You did that on purpose, asshole!” Stiles exclaimed. Deep pink flushed his face with color, making his moles stand out in stark contrast.

Derek smirked at stiles but immediately regretted it as he felt embarrassment roll off of Stiles. The werewolf could _feel_   the younger man’s humiliation and self-doubt oozing through their connection like a sickness. It was awful.

“I’m sorry, Stiles.” Derek attempted to apologize.

Stiles refused to make eye contact with the older man and was hunched over himself in the chair. His arms were crossed across his chest as he shrugged an acknowledgment.

“No, really, Stiles. I shouldn’t have teased like that. It wasn’t very nice.” Derek had been caught off guard. Stiles _never_ reacted to him in any way that indicated attraction. He had been sure when Stiles was sixteen that the boy had a crush on him. Whenever he had to interact with him, the boy’s heart rate had gone up, he had blushed, and he had stunk of lust.

That had stopped at some point during Stiles’ senior year of high school, and Derek just assumed that the younger man had gotten over his schoolboy crush. Now, it seemed like Stiles had simply gotten better at hiding it. Derek wondered what else he could hide from wolves.

Derek tilted his head to one side in a way that made him look like a curious puppy. “You. Your heart rate never changes. You didn’t even flinch. I could only sense your reaction through the bond. How do you do that?” Derek asked.

Stiles looked at him in apparent calm, but the werewolf could sense unease through the bond.

“I’ve spent years with a pack of werewolves, Derek. I had to be able to keep my secrets.” Stiles sighed and continued, “I bought one of those heart rate monitors for joggers and practiced. I would just say the most ridiculous shit until I could do it without my pulse giving it away.”

Pride and satisfaction washed gently through the connection from the younger man.

“What color is the sky?” Derek asked with a smile.

“Green.” There was no skipped heartbeat.

“What is 2 plus 2?”

“Three hundred forty-six.” Not even a blip.

Derek frowned. “What happened to the x-box on Isaac’s birthday?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t in the room when it happened.” There was no physical sign of a lie that Derek could detect, but he could _feel_   the deception through the bond.

“What happened to it?” Derek growled.

Stiles smirked and shrugged.

Derek was too busy wondering what else Stiles had lied to him about to fret over his newfound knowledge that the human found him attractive. After all, Derek knew he was physically attractive; it was his personality that most people found distasteful.

Derek didn’t notice the way Stiles frowned when he sensed the older man’s self-loathing.

Another week passed and the next full moon was fast approaching. Unfortunately, they were still no closer to finding any answers. Peter’s impressive library had been made available to Derek and Stiles, but it didn’t contain any more answers than Deaton’s.

The veterinarian’s office was lit by a small desk lamp. Deaton and Stiles had been poring over journals and grimoires trying to find any example of a witch having a were or shifter as a familiar.

So far, they had not found any instances, but Stiles was still hopeful that they could figure it out.

Deaton was trying to be helpful, but he was not a witch. He was a Druid and while witches and druids were both practitioners of magic, the power came from different sources and worked in different ways.

He had been able to detect Stiles’ innate _spark_ of magic and begin to guide him on his path of learning. Unfortunately, that was almost all he could do. To really learn everything he could about his magic, Stiles would need to find a witch mentor or even a coven to train with.

It was unlikely that Stiles would find a witch in Beacon Hills that would be willing to take him on.

Deaton had never noticed any silver flecks swirling through Stiles’ eyes that would indicate any significant power. Stiles would likely never be more than a hedge witch or caster of mountain ash circles.

That was one of the reasons Deaton was so confused.

He could not imagine how Stiles had been able to attract a werewolf as a familiar. It truly boggled the mind. He had to assume that the bulk of the power in the binding was coming from Derek.

“Have you and Derek discussed if you are going to make another attempt to sever the bond?” He asked the young witch.

Stiles shook his head “After I almost killed us last time, Derek doesn’t want to mess with it again.” He answered.

“I think next time you try, you should let Derek be the active participant. He should be the one to try and sever the bond. The familiar is supposed to choose, and he is arguably the more powerful part of your connection.” The older man looked at Stiles with sympathy.

Stiles nodded glumly. He was perfectly aware of his shortcomings as a witch. He just wanted to be skilled enough so that he was not a burden on the pack. Babysitting duty for the weak human was a waste of pack resources.

The vibration of his cell phone distracted Stiles from his musings. His lips quirked in a small smile after he checked the incoming message:

From Sourwolf: Stop wallowing in ur self-esteem issues. Meet me out front I’m taking u 2 lunch.

Stiles bemoaned his lack of privacy. He didn’t have low self-esteem, he was just being honest with himself. Still, he was not one to pass up a free lunch.

            To Sourwolf: K.

Stiles had to wonder. If Derek could pick up on him feeling a little down about his place in the pack, could he also sense other feelings and thoughts? Could he _feel_ Stiles all the time or just when he was nearby? He headed out the front of the clinic to find Derek leaning against the side of the Camaro.

Derek felt a wash of affection for the younger man as soon as he saw him walking out the door. Stiles must have picked up on it because he immediately grinned at the werewolf and sped up his walking pace.

“Where are we going for lunch?” Stiles asked.

Derek opened the passenger door for the younger man and walked around to his side of the car. “We’re going to the house. Isaac is making lunch and then he and Peter are going to supervise while we test some more things with the bond.”

Curiosity and nervousness zipped through the connection from Stiles. “What are we going to test?”

The older man could understand why Stiles was nervous. “I want to check out my new alpha form.”

Pure anxiety and fear not only filled the bond, but also the scent of terror filled the car.

“Calm down, Stiles. That’s why Peter and Isaac are going to be there. No one is going to get hurt and we are not going feral. I promise.” Derek had given this a lot of thought and _knew_ that it would be alright.

He could remember clearly every moment of the confrontation with Scott, so he had not lost himself. He had remained in control.

The pair drove the rest of the way to the Hale house in silence. In the recent past, it would have been unusual for Stiles to sit quietly for more than a few minutes. That was no longer the case.

As the weeks went by, Stiles became calmer, less distractible. It was easier for him to concentrate, especially when he was near Derek.

Also, they had developed an unconscious rapport. There was no need to discuss radio station choices. Neither of them wanted to endure the irritation or annoyance from the other if there was a disliked song on. They just changed the station.

If one felt sad or anxious, the other just automatically reached out a soothing hand to squeeze a shoulder or pat a knee.

At the last pack meeting, Stiles had set aside two extra slices of meat lover’s pizza for Derek. The werewolf never complained to the younger wolves, but Stiles could feel the pinch of disappointment from the Alpha when they left nothing but Stiles’ Hawaiian. It had not gone unnoticed on Stiles’ part that Derek had ordered him a whole pineapple and ham pizza even though no one else liked it.

On the other hand, it had gone unnoticed by both Derek and Stiles that they were the subject of some mighty curious stares from the rest of the pack.

_A map of the preserve was spread on the coffee table after the pizza was cleared away. Parts of the map were highlighted in various colors representing patrol groups. Derek started to describe his new patrol pattern to the rest of the pack. “Isaac, I want you and Cora……” He just trailed off staring at the map. Beside him, Stiles sat pressed against him knee to thigh, frowning at the map._

_Derek muttered, “Right, but…” and pointed to the western edge of the map._

_Stiles tapped the line of the creek that defined the border of their patrol area and dragged his finger along it to a hiking trail that cut off a small corner of the pack’s territory._

_Derek frowned. “But.” He whined._

_Stiles picked up a yellow highlighter and circled a large area of preserve that included land that they had not had the resources to patrol, previously._

_Seeing the large area of yellow highlighted map brought a satisfied smile to Derek’s face._

_The werewolf smiled widely at the rest of the pack causing more than a few incredulous stares._

_“OK. We will no longer be patrolling past the western hiking trail, but that means we can incorporate the Whistling Caves into our territory. I want Lydia to work with Stiles on a list of supplies and materials we will need to make the caves a good bug-out location. Danny and Isaac, if you could make sure that nothing dangerous is using the caves for a den, we’ll get started this weekend.”_

_Derek had patted Stiles fondly on the back while looking at his newly expanded territory with a smug grin. Neither of them noticed the rest of the pack exchanging confused glances._

When Derek and Stiles arrived at the Hale house, they went to the kitchen where Isaac was making a stack of sandwiches. The older werewolf sat at the breakfast counter while Stiles picked up two plates with sandwiches from next to Isaacs elbow.

He had not stepped away from the cook, however, when he put the plates back down opened the top bread on one of them and picked off the tomato. He then snatched two more pieces of turkey from the package next to Isaac and added them to the sandwich before putting the bread back on.

To Isaac’s confusion, he then took a knife and cut the sandwich on the diagonal. It was only then that he picked up the plates again and walked over to Derek slipping the modified sandwich in front of the Alpha.

Isaac looked at Peter with raised eyebrows, but the older Hale just shrugged at him. The group ate their sandwiches quickly before carrying some bottled water to the back yard.

Peter started the conversation. “So, Stiles, I noticed before the events of the full moon that you had improved your sparring skills. Before Scott so _rudely_ interrupted you were doing a pretty good job of keeping up with our young Beta, Isaac.”

Stiles rolled his eyes at Isaac who smiled fondly at his human friend. In Stiles’ opinion, Peter was still weird, but he had to acknowledge that the older Hale seemed to get more balanced as the pack had stabilized. “Thank you, Uncle Peter. It’s creepy that you noticed.”

Undeterred, Peter continued. “I would like to see if this _bond_ you have with my nephew has changed you as much as it has changed him. We must admit that he has gotten all ‘Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger,’ so to speak. I think we should know what it has done for you.”

Isaac and Stiles moved to face each other in the sandy clearing the pack used for sparring.

The older Hale cleared his throat. “Shirts off, boys. We wouldn’t want your clothes getting shredded.” Peter just smiled as Derek let out a small warning growl.

The younger men pulled off their shirts. Isaac was used to practicing without a shirt with the pack. Peter was right that clothes did not fare well under wolf claws.

Stiles was a little more self-conscious. He still saw himself as the scrawny 16 year old that he had been more than three years before. He would always be weaker than the werewolves that he trained with on a regular basis, so his self-image had not kept up with reality.

Years of running with wolves had left Stiles in excellent condition. He had broad shoulders and a slim torso. His pale skin was marked with battle scars, but it stretched over rock hard abs and lithe muscles.

Derek could not tear his eyes away from where Stiles’ dark denim jeans rode low over his hips, just below the pair of dimples above the younger man’s perfect ass.

A spike of surprise shot through the bond and Derek raised his eyes to Stiles’ face. The human was looking over his shoulder at him with a wide eyed expression.

Stiles was still looking over at Derek when he gracefully side-stepped Isaac’s opening attack. He then focused all of his attention on the fight. If Uncle Creeper wanted a show, he would provide one.

Isaac skidded to a stop just past Stiles’ back and whirled to square off against the human. He swiped an un-clawed hand at Stiles’ face, but was blocked by a quickly upraised forearm.

Stiles shifted his weight to the side causing Isaac to overbalance and lurch to the left. The wolf tried to grip the other man’s arms, but Stiles twisted away.

Isaac crouched low and leapt at Stiles waist, hoping to knock the human to the ground. Just before contact was made, Stiles jumped into the air and kicked the wolf in the ribs. He followed up with a swipe of long fingers down the wolf’s back.

If Isaac was holding back his claws, Stiles would restrain his magic. This didn’t mean that he didn’t want the other man to know he _could have_ hurt him badly. The werewolf grinned at Stiles and quipped, “ _touché.”_

The pair faced off again, circling and feinting at each other. It soon became clear that the Beta and the human were pretty evenly matched when it came to strength and speed. Since they both refused to risk injuring the other with claws, fangs, or magic, it was difficult to ascertain how they would do in an all out fight. 

As the fight wore on, the combatants became bolder. Isaac jumped at Stiles and the human dropped to his back in the sand. He kicked out with both legs sending Isaac flying across the cleared space and into the grass. The werewolf recovered quickly and pounced at his friend. 

Both young men were grinning at each other and laughing as they wrestled. Stiles attempted to climb on Isaac’s back and get him in a choke hold. The wolf grabbed him by the arms and flung him over his head. Stiles knew how to take a fall and rolled quickly to his feet. 

In the next instant, Isaac lunged at Stiles but tripped over a tree root. Acting quickly, the human reached out to grab his friend and they fell in a tangle of limbs. 

Derek gasped and raced to the pair just as Stiles let out a bark of pain. His wrist was beginning to swell and bruise, clearly sprained. Pain and embarrassment filled the bond. Derek bared his fangs at Isaac and growled causing the younger wolf to bare his throat in submission. 

He would have reached for Stiles to leech his pain, but the bond was now filled with surprise and awe. As they watched the wrist that Stiles had cradled to his chest healed. The swelling went down and Stiles gave it an experimental flap. 

“Holy shit.” Stiles breathed out. He grabbed Isaacs hand and barked out, “claw!” 

Isaac reacted instantly to the flare of command in Stiles’ voice and flicked his fingers revealing his claws. Stiles dragged one across the skin of his forearm creating a shallow, bleeding slice. 

Derek snarled at the younger wolf, but stopped when the human’s skin stopped bleeding and sealed over. 

Even Peter looked surprised. “It looks like our little witchling heals as fast as a Beta.” 

Stiles looked up at his Alpha. “I’m so fucking confused. None of this is something that is supposed to happen with a familiar bond.” 

Peter looked at the young man. “Why don’t we go sit down and you can tell us how it’s meant to be.” 

The group moved to the lawn chairs near the grill. Barely cooking meat over flames was a favorite pass time for the pack. The chairs in the outdoor kitchen were very comfortable. 

Peter smiled at Stiles. “Alright, why don’t you tell us how this whole familiar bond normally works?” 

Stiles nodded. “Let me start by letting you know that _nothing_ has been exactly like I thought it would be, but some of it is close.” He took a few calming breaths while Derek reached out and patted his back. 

“I knew there would be some sort of empathic bond, but none of my research prepared me for the intensity or strength of the bond.” Stiles gazed at Derek. 

“I’m guessing it has to do with you being a person. I mean witches with mice say they get basic feelings like hunger and fear. Dogs can share more, like love, trust, and happiness. The smarter the animal the more complex the shared information is.” 

Stiles smirked at Derek. “I guess you must be pretty smart, because I get the full range of human emotion from you. Which is kind of a surprise considering what a Sourwolf you are.” 

Derek scowled, but he sent a wave of affection and humor through the bond. 

Stiles continued. “So, I’m receiving fully nuanced emotional information from Derek, and I assume he is getting the same from me.” 

The werewolf nodded and remarked, “I should feel violated, but for some reason it feels _right_ . I have no privacy at all if Stiles is within a few dozen yards of me and the effective distance is getting longer as the bond gets stronger.” 

The human smiled at Derek. “It feels right to me, too. I miss it when we are too far apart to feel it.” 

Peter’s eyes had widened slightly at Stiles’ and Derek’s description of the bond. He cleared his throat and asked, “Derek, can you hear Stiles’ heartbeat from very long distances or pick it out in crowds?” 

Derek thought back to the night the bond was formed and nodded his head. “Yeah, I can. Is that something you’ve read about familiar bonds?” 

Peter shook his head and answered, “Not familiar bonds, but something. I’ll try to remember where I’ve heard of it. Go on Stiles, tell us more.” 

Stiles leaned back into the press of Derek’s hand and continued, “That’s just it. Nothing else is even remotely what it should be. I know Isaac wasn’t holding back. There is no way I should be as fast or strong as a werewolf. I shouldn’t have lost control from reacting to the full moon. I shouldn’t be able to heal like that.” 

The wolves were all listening closely to what Stiles had to say. 

“I haven’t told Deaton, but my magic is changing. What I did to Scott and the sparky hands thing… that’s not normal for a witch. I’m still failing Deaton’s tests for witchcraft. I can seal a mountain ash circle, but I can’t light a candle. I can’t make anything float above my hand. I have like _zero_ connection to ‘Earth Mother’ which I think he is making up. I don’t even have any silver sparkles in my eyes.” 

All of the wolves reacted to Stiles last sentence, but Peter spoke. “Are you meant to have silver instead of bronze?” he asked. 

Stiles was confused. “What do you mean ‘bronze?’” He looked at Derek when he felt his answering confusion through the bond. 

The younger Hale shrugged. “Your eyes, Stiles. When you lost it on the full moon and when you tried to break our bond, they glowed bronze. Are they supposed to be silver?”

Isaac thought it was important to add, “It’s been other times, too. They flashed once or twice during our sparring, but never went full on glowy. I figured you were holding back. I only noticed because I had seen the light show at the full moon. The tiny sparks are really close to your natural eye color.”

Peter nodded. “They aren’t solid, though. Not like my blue or Derek’s red. They swirl with gold and amber. It is really quite stunning.”

Stiles looked gob smacked. “I didn’t know. I haven’t even heard of that. Magic users always have silver. Witches, Druids, Magi, even Sorcerers have _silver_.” The young man ran his fingers through his hair and growled in frustration.

The older Hale stood abruptly. “OK. Let’s see what our fearless leader can do, shall we?”

The group walked back over to the sandy clearing. With no sense of embarrassment, Derek efficiently stripped out of his clothes. He stretched his neck to one side and then the other. He then closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Stiles had seen Derek change into his full Alpha form only a few times before. It had always looked painful. Fangs and claws sprouting into a Beta form followed by the pop of bones and tendons as his body reformed into a large wolf.

This time was not even close to that. Fur rolled over Derek’s body from a line down his spine as his body smoothly swelled and stretched soundlessly into the enormous dire wolf form that had first presented itself at the full moon.

Stiles could feel a deep satisfaction through the bond and Derek turned to press his large head into Stiles’ chest. The human lifted his hands and ran them through the thick ruff of fur around the Werewolf’s neck.

He looked at the unusual swirling bronze color of Derek’s pupils and his own eyes changed in response.

Peter took one small step closer to the pair. “Nephew, are you all in there?” He knew that the Alpha form could be more animal than man.

Stiles laughed in delight as Derek sat and _wagged_ his tail. The young man kept his left hand steadily scratching the fur around Derek’s neck and shoulders.

He lifted his right hand to the wolf’s head and ran it over one soft ear. “My God, Der. You are one bad ass mother fucker.

The Alpha huffed agreement while his human filled their bond with awe and pride. He wallowed in his friend’s praise and affection for several minutes before remembering their audience.

Isaac was standing a few feet away from his Alpha, shuffling his feet and wringing his clasped hands. Derek stood and leaned into Stiles’ side. The human could _feel_ the pack bonds and knew what to do.

“Isaac, man, get over here.” Stiles held out his hand and pulled the young Beta into a bear hug against Derek. The younger wolf flung his arms around the neck of his Alpha and sighed in contentment.

Stiles back away from the wolves, but the bond remained undiminished. He looked over at Derek’s uncle and saw him typing a text into his phone. Curious, he walked over to the older man.

“What up, Uncle Creeper?” Stiles could _feel_ the tiny flash of irritation through the pack bonds. He just smiled at the older man.

Peter sent his text and put his phone back in his pocket. “I have asked Lydia to bring me one of my books that I think will be quite useful.” He said.

Stiles looked irritated. “I thought you had already brought over everything you had on witches and familiars.”

Peter nodded. “Yes. I think we can stop going through those books, now.”

Stiles disagreed. “We still don’t know what the hell is going on. We don’t know how to fix this, yet.”

Peter laughed. He full on creepy, evil doctor, super villain, _laughed._

Derek showed up wearing his human form and clothes to stand at Stiles’ elbow. “What’s so funny, Peter?” he asked.

The older Hale stopped laughing and caught his breath. “Well, dear nephew, I have figured out a few things.”

At the impatient looks from the other three, Peter continued, “Firstly, our druid friend is an idiot, and secondly, we are not going to ‘fix’ this because there is nothing wrong, here.”

Derek asked the questions that Stiles wanted the answers to. “Can you be a little clearer, please?”

Peter was still smiling, but seemed to rein himself in. “Yes well, Deaton is an idiot because Stiles is _not_ a witch. He is never going to be anything as mundane as a witch. Tell me, Stiles, was your mother by chance part Native American?”

Stiles looked surprised. “Yeah, she was. Her father was half Kwakwaka’wakw. I was named after him. How did you know?”

Isaac blinked in surprise at the way the tongue twisting name of a Native American tribe rolled fluidly out of Stiles’ mouth.

Derek peered at Stiles’ features as if trying to make out any sign of his indigenous heritage. Stiles frowned at his and said, “Stop it, dude. One eighth Native American gets real lost in seven eighths Irish and Polish.”

Peter just nodded like everything was becoming clear. “Do you have any family that keep the traditions?” he asked.

Stiles was getting frustrated, but he answered, “My Aunt Maggie is my mom’s half-sister. She and my cousins live in Vancouver.”

Peter looked pleased. “You may need to get in touch with them and find out if you can apprentice with someone in their community.”

Derek finally snapped. “What the fuck are you going on about, Peter.” He growled.

The older Hale looked positively gleeful. “Stiles isn’t some weak, nearly powerless witch who was unable to attract a familiar. He is a Shaman. If I’m right, he has _very_ strong natural talent and can someday become a powerful one.”

Confusion and surprise filled the bond between Stiles and Derek. They were bursting with questions, but Peter held up his hand. “That’s why I have Lydia bringing me my book. I really don’t know much more than that.”

“How do you know Stiles is a Shaman? What is the difference between a witch and a Shaman?” Derek demanded.

With a shake of his head, Peter replied, “I can barely remember, I was so young.” The older man half closed his eyes trying to remember. “Let’s sit. This is a long story.”

The group went once again to the chairs around the patio. This time, Stiles and Derek sat next to each other on the glider. The other men did not comment on how Stiles leaned into Derek’s side or how the Alpha draped his arm protectively around the human’s shoulders.

Peter settled himself into a chair and began his tale.

_All of the adults in the pack were busy with preparations for the visit. The delegation from a large and powerful pack was arriving that afternoon and I could not wait. I felt lucky because I would not have to be part of the boring, formal introductions. That dubious pleasure fell to my older brother who would one day be Alpha._

_At 6 years of age, I was happy to watch the proceedings from a distance. I watched from my tree house near the large clearing in the back yard. From there, I was able to see the formal introductions and the gift exchanges. I could see all of the wolves and most importantly, I could see the Shaman._

_When I had asked what was so special about this group, my Alpha mother explained that they had a powerful magic user in their pack. Her awed tone of voice lent weight to her explanation. Powerful packs had Shamans because Shamans made a pack powerful._

_They increased the power of the Alpha and every other wolf in the pack. They strengthened pack bonds. They protected the pack and were considered precious to wolves. The bond between an Alpha and a Shaman was as strong as a mate bond and could not be broken except by death._

_I understood that it was an honor that the others had decided to visit the Hale pack. It meant that we were considered worthy of an alliance._

_I settled into my perch in my tree house to await the delegation. Less than an hour later, two pickup trucks rattled and clanked up the long drive to the house. I did not underestimate the wolves in the trucks. I knew that a pack’s strength did not necessarily translate into material wealth._

_Three wolves stepped out of the lead truck and waited for the two wolves and a human to exit the second truck. I was intrigued. The large Alpha took the hand of the small human woman and lifted it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. Was that the Alpha’s mate? Was she the Shaman? I could not contain my excitement as the group walked toward the back yard._

_They were met by my parents, my older brother, and Uncle Mike who was mother’s second. My hearing could barely make out the exchange of greetings. I watched as several gifts were given to the visiting pack and others were received in return._

_As the group entered the back yard they were joined by more members of the Hale pack. Food and drink soon overflowed the long tables that had been set up. Music filled the clearing and everyone took turns talking to the visiting wolves._

_I stayed where I was in my tree house. As the sun began to set, the Shaman wandered towards the edge of the clearing where I was hiding. She paused at the base of the tree and looked up at me. I could easily see her face in the dimming sunlight._

_I couldn’t breathe for a second. The Shaman smiled and her eyes filled with glowing color. Gold and amber flecks swirled against a rich bronze background. Honey and copper flecks sparked from her irises for a moment until she blinked once and her eyes returned to a more natural, caramel brown._

_As she smiled at me again, I let out the breath I didn’t even know I had been holding. I stayed where I was until she drifted from the base of my tree. As I climbed down and ran to find a plate of food, I knew I would never forget her eyes._

The emotions clogging their bond made Derek pull Stiles tighter to his side and bury his nose in the younger man’s hair. As Stiles began to shake with tears, Derek tried to send waves of affection and acceptance through their bond. Stiles clutched him tighter and sobbed against his chest.

After several minutes, Stiles calmed down enough to feel slightly embarrassed over his breakdown. He tried to pull away from Derek and smooth the older man’s tee shirt where it was wet from tears.

Derek made shushing noises and continued to run his hands in circles around Stiles’ back. He was beginning to feel overwhelmed. The last thing he wanted to do was set up an emotional feedback loop.  “Are you OK? You need to tell me what’s wrong. You’re flooding the bond with too many conflicting emotions. I can’t…” Derek broke off with a whine.

Peter and Isaac sat quietly while they watched the couple calm down. They could tell when Stiles’ and Derek’s breathing and heartbeats synched up. It was incredible to see and hear. The Alpha and Shaman were so aligned that they sounded like one person to sensitive werewolf ears.

When the pair pulled apart from each other, Peter cleared his throat. “Lydia should be here with the book in a few minutes. I’m hoping it has some useful information about a Shamans powers and what it means for a pack to have one.”

The older Hale had no sooner spoken than they could all hear Lydia’s car coming up the long drive to the Hale house. The group waited in silence for her to park her car and come around the house to the back yard.

The young woman who walked into sight was carrying a large, leather bound tome. She clutched it tightly under one arm as she came to a stop in front of Peter.

“This better be important, Peter. I am missing a manicure appointment for this.” She reached out with sharp red nails and dragged them down the side of Peter’s face as if to make a point.

Peter’s eyes half closed in pleasure that Derek and Stiles could feel through the pack bonds. “Eeeeewwwww. Stop that!” Stiles sputtered.

Lydia raised one eyebrow. “Am I not allowed to touch him, Stiles?” she asked while keeping her hand on Peter’s neck.

“Jeez, Lyds, you can touch him all you want, but he needs to do a better job blocking the icky lust from the pack bonds.” Stiles made gagging noises as Peter stared at him with wide eyes.

Peter spread the book open on his lap and flipped through the pages until he found the section he was looking for. He turned the pages until he had skimmed the entire section. As he reached the end of the pages, he smiled and lifted his head to wink at Derek.

“OK kids. Let me give you the highlights. This is an excerpt from the journal of Meriwether Lewis. Of course, it is not the _official_ journal that he turned in to Thomas Jefferson after the Corps of Discovery Expedition, but rather a private diary he kept for himself.” Peter turned the pages back to the beginning of the section.

_30 September, 1805:           Unlike the Brujos of tribes in the Spanish territories, who gain their power through association with the Trickster Coyote, the Shaman that we have encountered since entering the Shoshone lands are tied closely to wolves. The youngest son of the chief we have made camp with is one of these Shaman._

_He does not live with his tribe, but instead runs with a large pack of wolves which share territory and hunting grounds with this tribe._

_5 October, 1805:       The Indians have forbidden us from hunting the unusual wolves, even to gather scientific specimens. Some of the men have been quite unnerved by the sight of the Indian youth and his constant wolf companion walking through camp and entering the chief’s earth house. She is considerably larger than the Eastern wolves I have encountered in Virginia._

_9 October, 1805:       I have become intrigued by the Shaman. I observed him running with the wolves on the night of the full moon. He was only visible for a few moments at a time as he ran at terrific speed through openings in the trees. There was a distinct chill in the air, but he was sweating despite his nudity._

_He laughed as the pack let out yips and howls. I thought I saw a few scratches on his bloody flanks, but his skin was unmarked when he entered camp this morning._

_15 October, 1805:     I feel like I am on the brink of insanity. One of my men slid down a rocky embankment and was grievously injured. He was transported back to camp, but there was little hope that he would survive the night._

_The young Shaman was called in to use his “magic” to heal the injured man, and he was accompanied by his wolf companion.  The youth placed his hands on the injured man and began to chant. I allowed this because it could do no harm to my unconscious corporal._

_As I watched, The Shaman’s eyes flew open. His eyes were glowing and swirling with bronze and copper. The wolf at his side stood and transformed into a beautiful woman. Her eyes also glowed with sparks of golden whisky with flashes of intense red. As the Shaman began to sway, she reached out and supported him easily in her arms._

_The Shaman’s father was the only other person in the earth house. He gripped my arm tightly as I thought to run from these terrors. He nodded once towards my injured man who was stirring on the pallet._

_His broken limbs were now straight and his torn flesh had mended. I could do naught but sink to my knees in shock._

_17 October, 1805:     The previously wounded Corporal shows no sign that he was ever injured. He has no memory of the events that transpired night before last. I have been invited to join the Shaman with his pack for a few days. I can only assume that he means me no harm as he put himself at risk to heal my man._

_21 October, 1805:     As the Shaman and I climbed to a clearing in front of some rocky caves, the large female wolf walked to him and pressed her head into his side. She was followed by two fat cubs on wobbly legs._

_She once again transformed herself into a human. Several other wolves joined us at the cave mouth. Two other wolves took human form but most did not. I have no way of knowing if they are true wolves or shape shifters._

_The wolf people are dark of hair, but light in skin and eye color. They appear to be a blend of Indian and European blood, like Sacagawea’s son Jean Baptiste. As I bent to examine the cubs, the female’s eyes flashed red, so I desisted in my efforts. The Shaman laughed at me as I tolerated the cubs chewing on my boots and pawing through my few travel goods._

_I stayed with the pack overnight. The wolf people all slept in wolf form in a large pile. As it was quite cold, I am not embarrassed to say that I took advantage of the heat afforded by joining the furry pile._

_I returned to camp yesterday in preparation for continuing our expedition. As much as I would like to study these people and their unusual affiliation with wolves, we must venture on._

Peter’s voice trailed off and the group remained quiet in contemplation of what the journal excerpt had told them.

Naturally, Stiles was the first to break the silence. “So was the female Alpha the Shaman’s mate? Were they his cubs? Were they werewolves or skin walkers? How did the Shaman heal the injured expedition member?”

Peter shrugged. “There is no way to answer any of those questions. What I read is all there is about Lewis’ encounter with a Shaman, but the book is an anthology of similar tales and observations. We just need to keep reading.”

Impatience and eagerness zipped along their connection and Derek laughed out loud at Stiles’ welcome change of mood. The young man made grabby hands at the book, and Peter passed it over with an indulgent smile.

The older Hale said, “You can keep it as long as you would like, but please be careful with it. And, if you would, please share anything you learn with the rest of the pack.” Peter was being oddly deferential to the human with whom he had little interaction. “I think the best course of action is for you to contact your mother’s family.”

Stiles nodded in agreement. “I really only see them about once a year since mom…” He trailed off with a hand flap as if to disperse bad memories. “I’ll call Aunt Maggie tonight. God, I don’t even know how I’m going to start that conversation.”

Isaac stood and spoke quietly to his Alpha. “I’m going to get Danny, now. We want to check out the Whistling Caves this afternoon. I’ll call you on your cell if we find anything interesting.” He patted Stiles gently on the shoulder before turning to stride out of the back yard.

Stiles and Derek spent another hour or so cuddled together on the patio before the human decided it was time to call his aunt.

In an attempt to offer some privacy, Derek moved far enough away that he could only hear Stiles’ half of the phone conversation.

 _~Hey Aunt Maggie, it’s Stiles._  
~I’m great… Yeah, he’s great, too. We’re both doing really well. How are you?  
~That’s awesome! You’re gonna be a wonderful grandma.  
~Twins! Wow… That’s just, wow.  
~Runs in her family, huh. Is it the werewolf thing?  
~Hello… Hello, Aunt Maggie, are you OK?  
~No, I’m not joking. I mean it was sort of a joke, but if Jack is having a litter of cubs with his mate, I think it’s wonderful. I wouldn’t joke about that.  
~Well, I kind of noticed that a few of her family members sniffed at me a lot at the wedding reception, and her brothers were literally growling at each other over the last shrimp kabob. Also, my Alpha asked if there had been wolves at the wedding, because he could smell them on me.  
~Yes, I said my Alpha, but no I’m not a werewolf. Our pack has a few human members.  
~Yes, Dad knows.  
~No, he’s not a wolf either.  
~It’s fine, Aunt Maggie. We have a good relationship with the resident hunters. As a matter of fact, the hunter’s daughter is mated to our pack’s co-Alpha.  
~They get along fairly well for unrelated Alphas. They really share well, but the pack dynamic might be changing soon, because one of the Alphas might have bonded with a Shaman.  
~Aunt Maggie! Stop yelling. I can’t understand you!  
~Oh. Yeah, whooping for joy is good.  
~In how long?  
~I don’t understand. One of our pack members said he met a Shaman-Alpha pair when he was a boy. That couldn’t have been much more than 30 years ago.  
~Oh. So new bonds only come along once in a century or so. Great. I guess that means we don’t have anyone to help teach us.  
~Well, I’ll have to clear it with my Alpha, but it would probably be fine if they sent a delegation. If they have first-hand experience or even legends, I think every bit will help.  
~An honor? I don’t know about that. We’re kind of a rag-tag group.  
~Do you think Jack’s Alpha will let him and his mate be in the delegation even though she’s pregnant?  
~Well, the Shaman is asking. I’m the Shaman.  
~Good grief, Aunt Maggie. You’re gonna burst my eardrum!  
~No, Dad doesn’t know. I’m gonna tell him in the morning when he gets off shift.  
~No, we’re not mated. He… he doesn’t feel like that about me.  
~Yeah, the Alpha’s a him.  
~No, it would be fine with me. I go both ways.  
~Yes, Dad knows. It just surprised him that I don’t have better fashion sense.  
~OK. I’ll clear it with my Alpha and get back to you.  
~Thanks. I love you, too. Bye

Derek was sitting on the porch swing when Stiles found him. “How did the phone call go?”

Stiles shrugged. “I took a wild guess that she knew about wolves since her daughter-in-law had wolfy family members at the wedding. I was right. It turns out that her tribe has close ties with the local pack. Unfortunately, they don’t have a Shaman. Seems like we’re really rare, or something.”

The werewolf made room on the swing for Stiles and pulled him close with an arm around his shoulders. “You’re something, alright.” Derek quipped.

Stiles jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. “I’m supposed to be the snarky one, Der.”

They sat quietly, swinging gently and enjoying the warm evening breeze.

Stiles sighed. “She thinks her pack will want to send some people down to meet us. Like in a ‘come bearing gifts’ type of meet us. I said it would probably be OK if my cousin and his mate were with them. Family, you know.”

The older man nodded. He watched the moon as it peeked through drifting clouds. “I think it would be good if the first pack to visit has family ties to us. I don’t think they will be the only packs to come around once word gets out.”

He had gotten used to peace of the past year. It was going to be hard for him to deal with strangers in his territory. “What’s the name of the pack? Do you know?” He asked.

Stiles nodded. “Barfoot.”

Derek let out a low whistle. “They’re an old and powerful pack. They control the northern half of Vancouver Island.” A shiver of nervousness pinged down the bond. “It’s kind of funny. A powerful pack like that wanting to honor a pack like ours. Most wolves would sneer at a stitched together group like us. Co-Alphas, humans, and bitten wolves all jumbled together.”

Reassurance and pride flowed from Stiles’ end of the bond. “I’m good with untraditional. I’m great with it in fact.” He sighed heavily and Derek could feel how anxious he was about something.

He turned to look the human in the eyes. “What’s the matter, Stiles? They aren’t coming here tomorrow. We’ve got time to get ready for the visit.”

Stiles shook his head. “That’s not it.” He paused and sighed again. “My aunt asked if we were mated. Apparently it’s pretty unheard of for a Shaman-Alpha pair to not be mated to each other. I guess I forced something with that stupid ritual I performed. I fucked up.”

“You didn’t fuck up, Stiles. I think, maybe, you sped something up that was already happening. You may have hurried it along, but you didn’t create something out of thin air.” Derek reached over with his hand and traced his thumb across Stiles bottom lip.

When the younger man didn’t pull away, he leaned forward and gently pressed their mouths together. Stiles’ lips were dry and soft. Derek wanted to nibble on them and taste, but he eased away from the human.

Stiles stared at Derek with wide eyes. “You… You can’t do that, Derek. You know I’ve fucking loved you since I was sixteen! You can’t just kiss me. You’re straight!” Stiles sounded very distraught and a baffling mix of emotions was clogging up their bond.

The werewolf’s eyebrows scrunched in a V shape. “First of all, I didn’t know that you loved me. How would I even know that? Secondly, I’m not _straight_. I’m a werewolf. You’ve spent enough time with us to know that we’re kind of fluid in our sexuality, especially born wolves. Lastly, I can kiss you if I want and you want, because I’m your mate.”

“No. No. No…. It’s not real, Derek. My stupid mojo is trying to force this on you.” Stiles tried to shift away from the wolf, but Derek held him tight.

With a huff, the wolf pulled its mate close to his chest to keep him from wriggling away. “Listen to me, Stiles. Do you know how I found you in the woods?” he asked.

The human shook his head where it was pressed under Derek’s chin.

“I could hear your heartbeat. For months I’ve been able to hear your heart from anywhere in town. I could hear it getting slower and slower. My wolf made me run to save its mate. Your damn ritual had nothing to do with it.”

He gave the human a quick squeeze. “Do you know whose heartbeat a wolf can hear for miles? Their mate’s. Do you know who can sense all the pack bonds even though they aren’t a wolf? The Alpha’s mate. That’s who.”

Surprise and hope warred with each other along the connection from Stiles.

“I had already started to accept that you were my mate. There isn’t anyone else I’d rather spend time with than you. There isn’t anyone else that infuriates me like you or makes me laugh like you. I don’t worry about anyone else like I worry about you. And I think no one cares for _me_ the way you do.”

Tears were filling Stiles’ eyes, but Derek couldn’t see them through his own tears.

Derek continued in a choked voice. “I was planning on asking you on a date. Like, dinner and a movie or a picnic in the preserve. But, I suppose an unbreakable, lifelong bond works for me.”

Stiles grabbed the front of Derek’s tee-shirt. “Shut up you stupid, stupid wolf. I can’t even, right now. You are still taking me to dinner and we are definitely seeing the new Avengers movie this weekend, but right now? Right now, you are taking me up to your bedroom and we are getting his whole ‘mating’ business underway.”

In a misguided attempt to pull his shirt off over his head while simultaneously kicking off his shoes, Stiles collapsed in a heap against the foot of Derek’s bed. “Ow, Fuck. Rug burn. Oh. Oh cool, it’s healing right up. Awesome.”

Derek would laugh, but the sudden reminder that Stiles would now be nearly unbreakable in bed made his mouth go dry. There were things that he had eliminated from his fantasy list due to the fragility of the human. That was no longer a problem.

The only problem right now was getting Stiles naked and on the bed. Derek picked his mate up off the floor and helped him untangle the shirt from his arms.

Once he had unrestricted access to the younger man’s torso, the werewolf began sniffing and licking in a seemingly random pattern over his chest. He was tasting every one of Stiles’ moles.

Stiles flinched from the older man’s tickling stubble and fell backwards onto the bed with a soft “oof.” He propped himself up on his elbows and wiggled his eyebrows at Derek. “Come on Der, you love to take your clothes off. Why are you still so… _dressed_?”

The older man toed off his shoes and smoothly lifted the hem of his shirt pulling the Henley over his head. A soft groan escaped past Stiles’ lips as Derek’s ripped abs were exposed to his view. It wasn’t the first, or even the hundredth, time that Stiles had seen the werewolf’s naked torso, but it was the first time that he was free to ogle openly.

The shirt was tossed across the room to land by the dresser. Derek popped the button on his jeans and slowly lowered the zipper. He peeled the tight denim down his hips until they fell loosely to the floor. He stepped out of the pooled material and knelt on the mattress between Stiles’ legs.

By now, Stiles’ lips had parted and he was breathing heavy. He gasped as Derek unfastened Stiles’ jeans and tried to pull them off the younger man’s legs. He only succeeded in dragging Stiles down the bed until he thought to lift his hips from the mattress. Once he had removed Stiles’ jeans, he stepped back from the sprawled man.

Derek hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxer briefs and smoothly pulled them down and off his legs. A red flush spread up Stiles’ chest and neck, leaving his cheeks blotchy and pink. He quickly removed his own underwear and was finally, fully exposed.

Derek crawled up the bad beside Stiles and draped himself across his chest. The werewolf leaned in and pressed his nose to the side of the human’s neck and breathed deep.

The scent of _mate_ filled his sensitive nose making his pulse race with the need to claim. He pressed an open mouth kiss to the pulse in Stiles’ throat and licked the salty skin. Long fingers stroked up Derek’s back and across his ribs.

Those fingers. Long, nimble fingers that gave Derek the filthiest thoughts whenever Stiles waved then through the air or wiggled them during conversation. They were almost as distracting as the mouth that was currently making its way across the shell of Derek’s ear.

Blunt, human teeth nipped Derek’s earlobe, sending a shiver down his spine and causing him to grind down against Stiles’ thigh. His hard cock was leaving sticky dribbles of pre-come on the younger man’s skin, but that was fair. After all, Stiles’ dick was leaking where it was gouging into Derek’s abs.

Stiles wiggled and shifted under the heavier man until Derek was straddling his hips. Their straining erections rubbed together causing mutual gasps of arousal.

Derek braced himself on one arm and wrapped his free hand around their cocks, trapping them together. “I’ll be careful. I won’t accidently claw us, or anything.” He reassured the trembling human.

Stiles jerked in response. “What the fuck, dude. That hadn’t even occurred to me until you said something. Jesus!” The younger man tried to squirm backwards up the bed.

Derek released his grip but frowned at the younger man. “I said I _wouldn’t_ hurt us, Stiles.”

The frantic wiggling stopped, and Stiles grasped at Derek’s hips to keep him from climbing off. “OK. OK, how about I use my hands, instead, though?” Stiles wrapped long fingers around Derek’s hard length and gently rolled his foreskin up and down the shaft.

Derek leaned across the bed to retrieve the lube from his bedside table. He squeezed a generous amount onto his own dick and dropped the tube onto the bed.

With a hiss through clenched teeth, Derek nodded his readiness. “God yes, Stiles. Your hands……” he moaned and rocked his hips forward enough that Stiles could confine their dicks together in his loose fist. The younger man pulled and tugged as he moaned in pleasure.

By hunching his shoulders Derek was able to rest his forehead against Stiles’ while he rutted against the younger man’s weeping cock. Stiles smeared the lube and combined pre-come over their erections and his sinful fingers. With one slick hand, he reached behind Derek and rubbed long fingers against his furled hole.

The scent of his mate, the feel of his fingers, and the sight of Stiles’ hands on his dick combined to tip Derek over into his beta form. His hips bucked as he threw his head back and howled his pleasure. He shredded the mattress by Stiles’ head with his claws, and his eyes glowed red with flaring, bronze pupils.

The Shaman’s eyes were a swirling vortex of bronze and gold. He pressed the palm of his free hand over Derek’s heart. With his newfound strength he pushed against Derek’s chest and twisted with his hips, flipping them on the bed.

The werewolf snarled at the human and snapped sharp teeth in his face. He stilled for a moment when Stiles slid the hand between Derek’s cheeks and cupped his balls. As long fingers probed at his puckered hole, Derek arched off the bed, dislodging the lighter man.

Stiles grabbed at the base of Derek’s throbbing erection and bared his blunt human teeth at the wolf who quietly rumbled at his mate. The human looked feral in the dim light. His pale skin gleamed over lithe muscles. Golden light burst from his eyes and sparked along his body.

As soon as Stiles licked a broad stripe up Derek’s cock, the growl transformed into a whine. The werewolf maintained a grip on the bed with his sharp claws as he rocked his hips in an attempt to get friction.

It was finally too much for his Alpha instincts. He twisted around his mate and pushed the smaller man’s back against the bed. He focused his attention on returning his hands to human shape.

Derek swiped fingers through the mess of lube and pre-come around their dicks and pushed Stiles’ legs apart with his thighs. He was barely maintaining control as he pushed two fingers into his mate’s tight ring of muscle.

The Shaman’s eyes flashed as glowing embers of magic sparked from his hands. The amber flashes did nothing to injure the wolf. Instead, tingling heat and pleasure skittered across the older man’s skin, everywhere the magic touched.

The human snarled and whined while rocking his hips onto Derek’s probing fingers. “More,” he growled in a voice that sounded more animal than human. He whimpered as Derek pulled his fingers from his body.

The tight heat as he pushed his cock into his mate’s body overwhelmed the wolf. He ground his fangs together as his body attempted to shift to his alpha form. Fur sprouted along his spine, and Derek arched his back in a throaty howl.

The curve of hip into thigh shifted into a more canine form, allowing Derek to rut faster into his mate. Only the fear of hurting Stiles made it possible for Derek to maintain a tenuous hold on his humanity.

Just as Derek was afraid that he would shift entirely to his Alpha form, Stiles pressed his hand into the middle of his chest, over his heart. When the human made contact with his skin, the fur began to recede. Instead of fighting for control, his wolf helped the Shaman.

Derek’s body flexed and tensed under Stiles’ hands. He was able to maintain his Beta form while fucking into his mate. His thrusts became smoother and deeper, hitting Stiles’ prostate on every stroke.

Derek balanced his weight on one arm and grabbed at Stiles erection with his free hand. The human moaned and writhed under him. “So close. God, fuck Derek. Unnnngggghhhhh!!!!!”

As he shot thick ropes of cum against Derek’s abs, Stiles threw his head back, exposing his throat to the wolf. The act of trust and love pushed Derek into his own orgasm.

Before the human could react, Derek dropped to his elbows, trapping Stiles’ hand between them. He opened wide jaws and bit sharp fangs into the junction of Stiles’ neck and shoulder. The bond between them flared bright in ecstasy. Derek’s vision whited out as he collapsed across his mate.

The pair lay tangled together in a panting, sticky mess.

“Awesome.” Stiles groaned while trying to heave the heavier man enough to the side that he could breathe.

Derek shifted his weight to his right hip and slithered off the smaller man. He licked at the rapidly healing bite mark and nuzzled behind Stiles’ ear. He was completely relaxed when his mate flailed his hand against the werewolf’s chest.

“Oh my God, dude! What the fuck is _that_?” Stiles asked in a shaky voice.

In the middle of Derek’s chest was an ochre red handprint. It was placed over his heart where Stiles had been touching him during the mating bite. As the younger man lifted his hand to cover the print, they could both see that it was a perfect match.

The werewolf stared at the print for several seconds before lifting his eyes to his mate’s chest.

“Christ, Stiles. Look at you.” Derek husked out through a tight throat.

Stiles had a corresponding print on his own chest with one small difference. The human had a large wolf’s paw print over his heart. It was in the exact spot that Derek had left his bloody print on the night that Stiles had almost died in the woods.

Stiles ran his fingers over the mark on his chest. “Well, at least it can be covered by a shirt. My dad would freak if he thought I had a tattoo.”

Derek gave Stiles a sheepish grin. “I don’t think that’s going to work for your neck, though.” He said to the suddenly confused younger man.

The perplexed human jumped up from the bed and ran into the master bath. Once he had flipped on the light, he let out an exaggerated wail. “What the fuck, dude?”

Not only was the mating bite clearly visible as a shimmering, silver scar, but Stiles also had an ochre red triskelion above it on the side of his throat. It was a perfect but miniature copy of the one on Derek’s back.

Derek shrugged. “I’ll take full responsibility for the bite, but the triskelion is all you. You marked yourself with that during your attempted foray into blood magic.”

Stiles glared at his mate. “This better not happen every time we get our freak on.”

The older man winced at Stiles’ choice of words. He could feel his face flushing in shame as he turned on his heel and stomped back to the bedroom.

Of course, Stiles could feel his embarrassment and followed him to the bed. “Dude. Dereck. What’s wrong?”

Derek could hear the concern in his mate’s voice and feel it through their connection. The connection that seemed even stronger and more open than it had before they had sex.

Derek could not meet Stiles’ eyes. “I’m sorry. I… I almost lost control. I could have hurt you.”

Stiles was stunned. “At any point did you get the impression that I wasn’t enjoying myself? Did you ever feel that I was _scared_ or afraid of you?”

Derek shook his head no, but protested, “You were kind of lost in the moment, Stiles. I was practically an animal. Maybe you should be afraid of me.”

“Yeah, exactly, dude. I was lost in the moment. My magic flared in the middle of all that. I made it dance on your skin, but I could have easily lost control. Maybe you should be afraid of _me_. Did you think of that?” Stiles was nearly shouting.

Derek looked appalled. “I could never be afraid of you, Stiles. I know you would never hurt me.”

“Well, I know you would never hurt me, too. I don’t think we could really hurt each other if we tried.” Stiles rebutted while standing with his hands on his hips. “Besides, if we spend a little more time prepping, I think I could totally get on board with you fucking me in your Alpha form.”

Derek choked on spit. He was still coughing when he heard someone opening the front door.

From the entryway, Isaac yelled, “Derek! There’s someone living at the Whistling Caves. Derek! Where are you?”

The older werewolf bolted from his bedroom and leapt down the staircase, landing heavily in the front hall. Stiles followed at a more sedate pace, only jumping down the stairs two at-a-time.

Once Isaac informed his Alpha of what he had discovered near the caves, Derek decided he needed to see for himself.

Derek had not allowed any of the pack to join him while he investigated the Whistling Caves.  If he was discovered by the interloper, he would be able to pass his presence off as a routine patrol. After confirming his suspicions, the wolf returned to his house.

“It’s definitely the sorceress. Her scent was all over the area, but she stayed outside the old territorial boundaries. If we hadn’t expanded our borders, we may not have ever realized she was there.” Derek told the pack which had gathered in his library.

Every member of the pack had their own favorite places to sit in the cozy room. Isaac and Cora sat cuddled together at one end of a long, floral patterned sofa. Danny sat next to them leaning into Isaac’s side and rubbing Cora’s feet. Lydia sat at the other end of the Sofa while Peter stood behind her with one hand on her shoulder.

Scott and Allison shared an oversized chair. The werewolf had one hand resting low on his mate’s belly. Derek could feel through his Alpha bonds that Allison was with cub, but the mated pair was not ready to share the news.

Stiles twitched and locked eyes with his lifelong best friend. Scott gave a slight nod to Stiles before burying his nose in Allison’s hair.

Stiles looked over at his own mate and grinned. They both reveled in the happiness zipping through the pack bonds from the contented couple. Children brought joy to any pack, but they also made pack vulnerable. With that unhappy thought, Stiles decided to focus on the problem at hand.

“So, apparently, the sorceress did not give up on stealing my power, my super mojo, she’s just been lying low, biding her time, lying in wait, waiting for the right moment, that _magic_ moment…”

“Stiles.” Derek interrupted his mate’s babbling.

“Right. Sorry. OK. The biggest advantage we have is surprise. She doesn’t know that we know she’s still here. She also doesn’t know that I know I’m a Shaman. She probably knows that I’m not a witch or she wouldn’t have been able to siphon off my magic, before. But, she doesn’t know that I know that she knows I’m a Shaman.”

Scott looked confused. “Jeez, Stiles. Please tell me this doesn’t involve iocane powder.” He quipped, making Allison and Danny laugh.

Stiles smiled. “With our new strength, it should be possible to take her out. We need to do some research about a Sorcerer’s weaknesses, but I think we should be able to finish this before the full moon.”

The pack spent that evening and the next day planning its attack.

The pack had much better equipment these days. Stiles and Danny had spent months outfitting the group with high tech gadgets, protective gear, and weapons.

Wolves tended to underestimate the advantages of ‘human’ gear. Especially born wolves. Derek had been reluctant to adopt the use of equipment, at first. Then, a Kevlar vest had stopped a wolfbane bullet, fired by a rogue hunter, from entering Cora’s heart.

Now, the group looked like Call of Duty LARPers. They all had throat mic communication systems on their phones, and they all wore sturdy, ankle bracing combat boots. Every one wore bullet-proof vests. Lydia had insisted that the ladies’ vests be custom fit.

Derek and Scott also had modified vests. Theirs consisted of separate front and back rifle plates that connected by Velcro in case they needed to shift to Alpha form. They were worn over bare chests. Stiles and Allison approved of the look.

The wolves wore fingerless gloves and carried personal weapons.  Their opponents, including hunters and rival packs, always assumed that the Hale-McCalls preferred teeth and claws to more conventional weapons, but they were wrong.

Isaac once declared to a hunter that he hated the taste of ‘chicken shit’, and refused to use his fangs if possible. He preferred to use his karambit in close quarters and a M1911 for everything else.

Cora was a closet Frank Herbert fan and called her length of piano wire ‘shigawire.’ Stiles had once seen her decapitate a harpy using a guitar string as a garrote. It had been both frightening and arousing at the same time.

Scott never did get very good with a handgun, but he was a wonder with a battle ax. He carried a large, double headed ax in a back holster and a Smith & Wesson SW671 Tomahawk on a belt loop. He was an impressive melee fighter and handy on camping trips.

Peter carried multiple handguns, but still used his claws for what he called ‘wetwork.’ He felt strongly that if he was close enough to use a blade, he would rather use his hands. It must be a born-wolf thing, because Derek was the same way.

The humans in the pack had been issued night vision goggles and helmets. The wolves refused both because they interfered with their enhanced, wolfy senses.

Allison was carrying her cross-bow, but was positioned on a four-wheeler at the perimeter of the designated ‘combat zone’. If the shit hit the fan, she was supposed to run to her father. Scott and Derek were in complete agreement that she was to be a non-combatant while she was gestating.

Lydia carried an assortment of incendiary devices. Mini-molotovs, grenades, smoke bombs, and flash bangs were attached to her vest by molle webbing. She was the group’s explosives expert and carried C4 as well as a few small vials of napalm. Lydia was possibly a pyromaniac, which made her connection with Peter even stranger.

Danny’s skill set may be the most surprising. He carried tree climbing equipment and a Remington modular sniper rifle. He wore tree climbing spurs over his knee high boots and had several coils of flip line attached to a padded harness. Danny was a gentle soul, but he had never hesitated to kill in defense of his pack.

Stiles was the wild card. He had several knives secreted about his body, but he would never be a blade man like Scott. The few times he had tried to use a cross-bow had been disastrous.

What Stiles did have talent with was a spear. More specifically, Stiles was a skilled retiarius. He carried a weighted net made of wolfbane infused rope, and a long trident. The wooden handle was made of Mountain Ash and the prongs had been hand forged in a fire built on Beltane. It was Stiles’ baby.

He had been learning these weapons for two years and he was quite adept in their use. He practiced almost daily with his pack and wore the traditional retiarius garb while doing so; barefoot and helmetless, wearing only arm and shoulder guards and a loincloth. His flexibility, agility, and speed were his strengths. Heavy or bulky armor would only hinder him.

When in battle, Stiles made a few concessions to his human fragility. He traded his loincloth for lightweight shorts. He refused to wear heavy combat boots, but he did protect his feet with flexible, rock-climbing, toe shoes.

Yes, he was aware of how ridiculous they looked, thank you.

Stiles was wearing a helmet and night-vision goggles, but if magic started to fly, he would probably need to take them off.

The pack was closing in on the Sorceress’ position on foot. Even the humans were moving in near silence. Danny had taken position in a large oak tree. His ghillie suit made him nearly invisible where he was stretched out on a heavy branch.

Scott had pushed Allison’s ATV into position so that the engine noise would not alert their adversary. She would be monitoring communications among the group and was loaded down with first aid equipment.

The pack had hoped to take the Sorceress completely off guard. Unfortunately, they must have triggered a magical alarm system, because the wolves all dropped to their knees, clutching their heads.

Through their connection, Stiles could sense the piercing pain that his friends were undergoing due to the ultrasonic siren filling the area. A quick communications check indicated that Danny, Allison, Stiles, and Lydia were unaffected.

As Scott’s second in command, Stiles took charge of the assault.

“Danny. Allison. Maintain your positions. Lydia, I need flash-bangs at one and three o’clock.” Stiles moved as soon as Lydia lobbed her grenades.

Stiles closed his eyes and covered his ears for a count of three and then took off running for the cave entrance.

“Lyds. Stay to my right. I can feel her powering up. She’ll be out of the cave in three, two, one…”

A shift of wind blew leaves and debris swirling around the clearing in front of the cave. The sorceress stepped out of the opening with her hands held palms up, out to her sides. On a normal human, it would have looked like she was surrendering, but Stiles could sense the magic gathering in her hands.

“Danny. Do you have a clear shot?” Stiles was answered by the retort of a rifle, but the round was deflected by the Sorceress’ magic at the edge of the clearing.

Lydia half-heartedly threw a mini-molotov toward the witch but was not surprised when it stopped inches from the woman and burned out harmlessly.

The hag flipped her wrist and Lydia skidded backwards through the dirt and was pinned to a tree. Stiles could sense that she was unconscious, but largely unharmed.

“It looks like it’s just you and me, now, little boy.” The Sorceress grinned, exposing rotten teeth.

Stiles allowed himself to draw on the power of the pack. He gathered the strength of the wolves around himself like a cloak. He knocked his helmet off his head exposing his eyes to the crone. They began to glow and amber fire flowed along the length of his trident.

If the Sorceress was surprised, she did not show it.

The pair of magic users circled each other like prize fighters. They lobbed fireballs and lightening at each other. The old woman used silver bracelets as shields to deflect Stiles’ magic, and he used his trident to defend himself.

The Sorceress reached out and magic flowed toward Stiles. It wrapped itself around his trident and began to pull. The young man could feel his grasp loosening on his weapon and fought to maintain his grip.

The source of Stiles’ magic was his pack. With the wolves incapacitated and Lydia unconscious, he was at a severe disadvantage. He could feel his belief wavering.

Magic is about belief, regardless of the source. Stiles needed to believe that he could hold on. Then he realized something.

His source of magic was his pack, but the Sorceress used stolen magic.

Right now, the power she was using had been stolen from Stiles. It was _his_ magic. He twisted his trident, wrapping the magic tighter around it like spaghetti noodles on a fork.

Stiles touched the power with his spark and welcomed it back. He could feel it filling him as it drained from the hag.

Later, it would be unclear what ultimately killed the hag.

As she weakened, her magic barrier dropped and the sound that was torturing the wolves stopped. Derek leapt forward and raked claws across the woman’s neck. Almost simultaneously, a rifle round from Danny exploded her chest and Stiles absorbed the rest of her magic.

In the aftermath, no one was immediately aware of what was happening to Stiles. Peter ran to Lydia and was checking her for injuries. Isaac and Cora were busily removing the head from the crone and cutting her body in half. Scott called for Allison to bring the first aid supplies for Lydia, and Danny was occupied with climbing down from his perch.

During his training with Deaton, the Druid had taught Stiles to ground magic in nature. Unfortunately, the magic that was burning through Stiles could not be discharged that way. This magic came from the wolves and needed to be returned to the wolves, but Stiles didn’t know how to do that.

He had been working with Derek and the rest of the pack on how to draw energy through the bonds, but he had always been careful not to draw too much. He had not planned to be in a situation where he would have absorbed a dangerously excessive amount of magic.

It was Derek who finally realized that something was happening to Stiles. The Shaman was lying naked on the ground with his back arched, heels drumming the dirt, and fingers clawing at nothing.

His eyes swirled and sparked their molten bronze color while amber and red embers erupted from his hands and arms.

The young man had flung away his weapons and minimal armor. At some point he must have bitten his tongue because blood was mixed with the spit coating his lips and teeth.

When the pack tried to approach, Stiles snarled and hissed. The magic was making him blind and deaf. It was blocking his awareness of the pack bonds. It was burning him up and killing him from the inside.

Derek shifted to Alpha form. His rifle plates dropped to the ground, and his cargo pants shredded off his legs. He stepped out of his boots and crept forward, on all fours, towards his mate.

The Alpha bracketed Stiles’ convulsing body with his front paws. He licked to blood and spittle from his mate’s face and neck. The wolf didn’t pull back when Stile’s magic laced fingers clawed at his muzzle.

Derek dropped his weight onto the human’s chest. He breathed in his scent and concentrated on their bond. It was sluggish and unresponsive, bloated with magic, but the wolf pushed harder.

Their bond was stronger and more resilient than any other. It was pack, mate, and magic. Derek knew that he had to connect with Stiles. Insanity was overtaking his awareness. If the Shaman was destroyed, Derek would either die with him or need to be put down in a mercy killing.

Derek could feel Stiles spark guttering as it almost burnt out. He threw his head back and howled. The rest of the pack joined him. Heads tilted to the sky they howled their plea to whomever might be listening.

Derek howled his pain, fear, and need. He howled for his pack. He howled for his mate, and his mate heard him.

Stiles lifted his hand to the soft fur blanketing him. He could not see or hear, but he could feel his mate. He gripped Derek’s fur and pushed at their bond. He pushed the magic away from his spark and into the connection.

The magic arced like electricity along the pack bonds. From Stiles, into Derek. From Derek to Peter, Cora, and Scott. From Peter to Lydia. From Scott to Allison, Isaac, and Danny. It flowed in series and in parallel like a web until every member of the pack had absorbed a portion of the magic.

Within moments, Stiles could see and hear, again. His felt like he had gone ten rounds with a heavyweight champ, but he could already feel himself healing. His bond with Derek was open and flowing freely.

He was aware of the wolf’s soft belly pressed along his naked skin. Without looking away from his mates eyes he asked, “Am I naked? Why am I naked?”

Derek licked his face and began to shift his weight off his healing mate.

“No. No. NO! Don’t you dare move. You’re the only thing protecting my probably completely illusory modesty.” Stiles gripped Derek’s ruff with both hands. The Alpha settled more firmly between Stiles’ legs.

Scott started barking orders. “Alison, get Lydia loaded on the ATV and run her back to the house. Danny, you go with Isaac and Cora. Stick together. Peter, you and I are gonna burn this body.”

The younger Alpha looked at Stiles and Derek. “You guys just keep doing whatever it is you are doing.”

Stiles and Derek were reveling in their bond. Love, loyalty, faith, hope, and trust washed through the connection binding the two men to each other. Gone was the fear and apprehension of the unknown. Gone were the twinges of worry for the future.

The bonded pair now knew that they would face everything that came along side by side. They no longer had any doubts that their bond was a true one.

They waited in silence while most of the pack made its way out of the clearing.

“Soooo. Noise cancelling headphones might be useful for you guys. Hmmm?” Stiles was already thinking about what went wrong during this fight and how to prevent it from happening again.

Derek playfully snapped his teeth at his mate’s nose and licked a stripe from his collar bones to his ear.

“Alright. Up you go, big guy. Help me find my shorts.”

Stiles was weaker than he thought. He barely made it onto his knees before falling back in a heap. “Ouch.”

Derek sniffed out Stiles’ shorts and ridiculous toe shoes. He watched as the young man struggled into them. Then he dragged the rest of Stiles’ equipment into a pile and barked at his uncle.

Peter eyed the pile of gear and nodded at Derek. “Scott and I will get his stuff home safe. You take care of your mate.”

Derek laid down on his belly next to Stiles and huffed hot breath in his face.

Stiles raised one eyebrow. “Really? OK.” He said with a smirk.

The human carefully rolled his weight onto the back of the enormous Alpha. He draped his arms around Derek’s furry neck and let his legs dangle when the wolf stood up.

Derek began to walk slowly towards his home with the exhausted human on his back. When it became clear that Stiles was in no danger of falling off, he increased his speed to a smooth trot.

“Der, you make the best pony.” Stiles snuggled his face against his mate’s fur.


End file.
